


The Most American Thing

by I_write_things_sometimes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Tower, Brooklyn Dodgers, Dodger the Dog - Freeform, Domestic Avengers, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 05:53:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19784599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_write_things_sometimes/pseuds/I_write_things_sometimes
Summary: Tony finds Natasha and Clint watching something that's happening in the living room. Naturally, he's a little intrigued."Steve was in the living room wearing his brown leather jacket — the one Tony loved to steal, but probably loved seeing Steve wear even more — and his vintage blue Brooklyn Dodgers baseball cap. The aviator sunglasses Tony had bought him were folded and resting against his chest, one arm tucked into the collar of his shirt.Tony loved that he actually wore those things. He’d bought them mostly as a joke but, of course, Steve looked great in them.“What exactly am I looking at?” Tony muttered, cutting a glance at Nat and Clint.“Wait for it…” Nat said."





	The Most American Thing

**Author's Note:**

> So I was playing with my dog earlier today and, well, then this happened. Hope you enjoy!

“I think this might be the most American thing I’ve ever seen.” Nat said, staring at something Tony couldn’t see.

Clint nodded slowly in agreement.

Tony walked over to them quietly, aware of the fact that they weren’t moving and Nat had kept her voice low. 

“What are we looking at?” he said, leaning to try and see around Nat. He almost leaned too far and fell on his ass, but Clint grabbed his arm. 

“Your boyfriend,” Clint said.

“Oh. What’s he doing?”

Nat stepped out of the way and tugged Tony into the spot she’d previously occupied. She kept a hold on Tony's shoulders and said, “See for yourself.”

Steve was in the living room wearing his brown leather jacket — the one Tony _loved_ to steal, but probably loved seeing Steve wear even more — and his vintage blue Brooklyn Dodgers baseball cap. The aviator sunglasses Tony had bought him were folded and resting against Steve's chest, one arm tucked into the collar of his shirt. 

Tony loved that he actually wore those things. He’d bought them mostly as a joke but, of course, Steve looked great in them. 

“What exactly am I looking at?” Tony muttered, cutting a glance at Nat and Clint.

“Wait for it…” Nat said.

Tony turned back to Steve who was… crouched down and clapping his hands?

“Come here, boy!” Steve called, which only lead to more confusion. 

Until a streak of brown and white fluff bounded into Steve  —  who was nearly, but not quite, knocked over by the force of the dog’s excitement. Steve laughed, his real head-thrown-back, unbelievably-happy-and-carefree laugh that Tony loved so much. 

Tony knew he was smiling like a lovesick fool, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

Steve pried the neon yellow tennis ball out of the dog’s mouth and bounced it once, then again. The dog’s bushy tail swept over the floor rapidly; the poor thing was practically shaking with excitement. Steve launched the ball across the room, and the dog took off sprinting after it. 

“I told you,” Nat said. “The only way it gets _more_ American is if he starts… I don’t know, grilling or something.” 

“Eating an apple pie,” Clint suggested. “Or a corn dog.”

Tony laughed just a little. 

“How long has this been going on?”

“Ten minutes at least,” Nat said.

“Does anyone know where the dog came from?”

“Not a clue,” Clint said, shrugging and shaking his head.

“Alright then…” Tony watched the dog return the ball two more times, tail wagging all the while, before his curiosity got the best of him.

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” Steve cooed at the dog adorably and scratched behind its ears, much to the dog’s delight.

Tony walked into the living room with a million questions in mind. 

“Steve…?” he started, a little bit hesitant. 

Steve turned to him, eyes wide with surprise and a hint of guilt.

“Tony!” he said, managing to sound as excited to see him as always. Steve stretched up out of his crouched position stood, walked over to Tony, and greeted him with a quick hello kiss.

Tony melted a little bit. 

“Hey,” Tony said, feeling warm and loved and a little silly.

“Hey,” Steve said, sounding like he felt the exact same.

At that moment, the dog jumped on Tony. Steve put a hand down to caution him away. “Down, Dodger. Come on, don’t jump on Tony. He’s dressed in work clothes.” Dodger sat, tail still wagging.

Tony smiled as he looked from the dog — Dodger, apparently, and wasn’t that fitting? — to Steve.

“And who is this, exactly?” Tony asked, eyebrows raised as he glanced at Dodger, who was now lying by their feet, panting.

“Um,” Steve rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. “Tony, meet Dodger.” He gestured from Tony to the dog. “And Dodger, this is Tony.” 

Tony dropped down to one knee and reached a hand out to allow Dodger to sniff it. Of course, the excited dog just jumped to his feet, licked at Tony’s hand three times and then scrambled as close to Tony as he could get himself. Tony smiled and pet the soft fur behind Dodger’s ears a for a minute. 

“Where’d you find him?” Tony asked, looking to Steve who was now sitting on the couch behind him. 

“He kind of found me,” Steve admitted, looking a little sheepish. “I was drawing in the park and he got away from his owner, so I helped her catch him.” Tony could imagine Steve chasing Dodger around Central Park and, well, he couldn’t really be held accountable for how much he loved that particular mental image. It was just too damn cute. “Anyway, we got to talking and she said she was only watching him until she could find him a new home. I guess her friend had to give him away, and her landlord won’t allow dogs, so she’s been sneaking him in and out of the apartment for a week.”

Tony nodded. The story seemed reasonable enough. 

“So you offered to take him home?”

“Er, well. I mean, no. Not exactly. I offered to keep him here so she didn’t have to keep sneaking him into the apartment, is all.”

“Oh?” Tony couldn’t help it; he was smirking now. “So we’re not keeping him? You intend to just give him away when this mystery owner finds him a new home? Despite the fact that he clearly loves you and there’s already a dog-shaped indent on our couch that’s covered in dog fur?”

Steve’s cheeks went just a little pink, and Tony laughed.

“It’s fine, Steve,” Tony said, taking pity on him. The tension drained out of Steve’s shoulders a bit. “As long as I don’t have to compete with our four-legged friend here for your attention _all_ the time, I think we’ll get along, right Dodger?” Dodger wagged his tail and stared at Tony. Tony turned to Steve and spotted that little crease between Steve's eyebrows that usually meant he wasn’t fully sure what Tony was saying. Tony decided to go for broke and spell it out with him. “I like dogs.” Tony looked at Dodger. “I’ve never had one before, but it’s not like we can’t afford it. Plus, you’ll probably do all the actual work. And the Avengers need a mascot, right?”

Steve’s mouth dropped open a little, but he recovered quickly. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“I swear I wasn’t trying to pressure you,” Steve said quickly. “I mean, I might have _maybe_ planned to try to convince you at some point down the line, but I wasn’t going to — ”

Tony climbed onto the couch next to Steve and put a hand on Steve’s chest to stop him. 

“Honey, I know. I didn’t think you were. But… I see how happy he makes you.” Steve smiled at him, expression soft. “And he’s cute. You both are. So, yeah, he can stay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Completely.”

Steve pulled Tony into a quick, excited hug. 

“I mean, come on. His name is _Dodger,_ ” Tony said. “It’s like he was meant to be yours.”

Steve laughed a little and pulled away from the hug enough to look Tony in the eye. “Ours, you mean.”

“Yeah,” Tony conceded. He was smiling more than this conversation warranted, he thought. He just really liked it when Steve called things _theirs._ “Ours. But mostly yours.” 

“Deal.” Steve agreed, with a teasing smile that Tony knew meant he absolutely _did not_ agree. 

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? I keep getting hit with these little bits of inspiration and I'm just running with it now. I'd love to hear any feedback you have.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I really appreciate it!


End file.
